


The End

by servantofclio



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world ends on a winter's day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> Just a teeny story based on a what-if.

The world ends on a winter’s day. Orlais lies under a cloak of gleaming snow; Fereldan, as usual, is mired in frozen muds and bitter winds. Cold blows through the Marches, too, leaving Kirkwall’s hills and steps slick with ice. Antivans and Tevinters shiver in the unaccustomed chill, clutching too-thin cloaks around themselves.

That day, the Veil tears itself to ribbons, floating away in gossamer strands. Spirits spill into the world and stare about themselves, blinking. Mortals scrub their eyes, feeling themselves half dreaming. Some things collapse. Elsewhere, new structures appear. Those once Tranquil find their rage and grief and fear restored. Folk who were never mages find ice and flame at their command. Everywhere, there is wailing and screaming, fire and tears. Some even laugh in joy.

The two questions on everyone’s lips are _what has happened?_ and _why?_

This end was not unanticipated, not by those who knew. They had wondered, though, at the delay. Long years had passed since that warning, given before an eluvian. Were Fen’harel’s plans not so advanced as they had thought? Or did he wait, and if so, for what?

A few realize, as the world shifts around them, what he waited for.

The night before the world’s end, a woman breathed her last. She was already frail, and the cold of winter had racked her lungs and bitten to the bone. She’d taken to her bed, clutching her blankets with her one hand, but the cough took her worse and worse, until she gasped for every breath. They’d meant to bury her with honor, she who twice had closed the Breach, to let her lie in state while the masses crowded to her bier.

But there would be no stately honor, as the world remade itself. Once, she had opened Solas’s eyes; as hers closed, the Dread Wolf cast his spell.

This world was hers. Along with her, it would pass away, as he restored his own.


End file.
